


Dark Desires

by Ember



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bad Touch, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt, M/M, Mates, demon!Derek, non-con elements, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember/pseuds/Ember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had so many demons within him, dark parts of himself, dark thoughts that he refused to look straight in the eye, that by the time he realized he had a resident of hell residing in his skull it was already too late. Looking back at it now it was obvious, those thoughts that had just a different tone to them, those hypnotizing secrets whispered in the back of his mind.</p><p>
  <i>My, doesn’t that boy’s throat look tasty?</i>
</p><p>+++</p><p>Demon!Derek, with plenty of emotional manipulation, rough sex, and angst thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Desires

**Author's Note:**

> For the winner of the teen wolf auction, who shall remain anonymous until/if they give me permission to name them!
> 
> Note, I have tagged for dub-con and non-con elements. Please see ending notes for more information on those tags if you wish. Warning, bottom note contains major spoilers though.

“You know, there’s a debate among demons to the difficulty in possessing a monster like your boy Derek here,” the demon said silkily as it tossed the knife back and forth. “A meat suit is a meat suit to me, but I have to say there are definitely some benefits to wearing a werewolf. Not that healing means much to a demon- we’re damn near impossible to get rid of anyway. And the extra strength comes with the territory, should I even need to get my hands dirty.” It sauntered forward and pressed the blade of the knife to Stiles’ bruised cheek. “Do you want to know the real benefit?”

“The opportunity for dog puns?” Stiles guessed, sarcasm coming out crooked as he bit back bile. Isaac's kick to his stomach had done a number on his intestines.

The demon, because Stiles refused to think of this cocky bastard as Derek, smiled as its eyes became black oil slicks. “I’m going to have fun teaching you to be good for me, Stiles.”

Stiles bit off a retort as the blade cut into his cheek, creating a sliver of bright red as it sliced slowly into his skin.

The demon turned on its heel, running a finger along the blood on the blade. “No, the best thing is the instinct. It’s instinct for wolves to want to hurt. People have such...” It turned to face Stiles once more. “Such _humanity_ most of the time. They try to fight us, and that can be such a bother. But monsters like Derek here?” It pointed the tip of the blade to Derek’s chest. “Why, they’re more than happy to let go.”

“You’re sick if you think Derek wants to do this,” Stiles gritted out. “He’s never hurt anyone!”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. He’s hurt so many.” The demon moved the blade to Derek’s temple. “His mind is filled with guilt for all the blood on his hands. He’s swimming in the crimson of his past. It’s all. Right. Here.” Another smirk. “And now the question is what to do with you...”

Stiles struggled against the chains already cutting into his skin. He could feel the iron rub against raw, wet flesh. It was obvious that he was far too human to have any hope of escaping. He would be tied to this chair until the demon wanted it otherwise, and Stiles shuddered to think what that would involve. “I don’t care what you do to me!”

“Oh, Stiles... of course you do.” The demon tapped Derek’s elongated, lupine ear. “Lie detector, remember? I mean-” It stepped forward to grab Stiles face, fingers digging into his chin, sharp enough to bruise. “I can’t let you go running around, telling everyone that my big, bad wolf-suit has a demon in occupation. That just won’t do.”

“So kill me,” Stiles said bleakly, refusing to look away. “Stab me, let me bleed. You’re going to be stopped, whether I’m alive or not.”

“Oh, but I can’t do that. Don’t you know, Stiles? Instinct, remember, instinct. Think.” It tapped Stiles’ chin, almost teasingly. “Sure, I have an easier time getting away with, let’s admit, murder. And all those little werewolf minions of mine makes the operation a _whole_ heck of a lot easier. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t some drawbacks to it. And if there’s one thing I’m not willing to risk, it’s trying to kill the werewolf’s one and only Mate.”

Stiles wrinkled his brow. “If you really think me and Derek are friends, must less that I’m his only one, then you are sorely mistaken.”

A slow, seductive smile. “No, Mate. Capital M, Stiles. Didn’t you do the research? Didn’t you at least look up pack dynamics? Mate, as in, for life.” Derek- the demon, it was a demon- stepped closer, let its words ghost over Stiles' lips as the young man's breath stilled. “You’re his Mate, whether you knew it or not.” Its smile was as sharp as the edge of the blade. “And now, now you’re mine.”

And the messed up part was, the really messed up feeling coming to surface as those smoky words poured from Derek’s lips... Was that it made Stiles happy, as selfish and sick as it was, to hear that Derek thought of Stiles’ as his Mate. Even if it was a lie, even if it was just the demon’s manipulation.

+++

Derek had so many demons within him, dark parts of himself, dark thoughts that he refused to look straight in the eye, that by the time he realized he had a resident of hell residing in his skull it was already too late. Looking back at it now it was obvious, those thoughts that had just a different tone to them, those hypnotizing secrets whispered in the back of his mind.

_My, doesn’t that boy’s throat look tasty?_

Derek had once heard that demons never lied, that it suited them far more to play with twisted truths. And it was true with Derek’s attraction to Stiles. It was far too real, something that had been building within him, blacker than ash, more poisonous than wolfsbane running through his veins. His attraction had took him by surprise. A stray thought about how long Stiles’ fingers were, how well longer hair suited him when he started to grow it out, how tasty his neck looked, pale as the moon, calling to Derek with a dull ebb. So when the demon whispered it in Derek’s ear, low and filthy and absolutely brimming with want, it wasn’t a new thought, wasn’t surprising. The next thing the voice whispered was though.

 _You could have him, if you wanted. Take him. Make him yours. Your Mate. Our Mate._

Stiles loathed Derek, a hate set on low heat, and Derek knew that. The only way that they ever interacted was to save someone’s life, sometimes each others. It was a beneficial relationship, but not one set on friendly feelings or positive affections. Stiles always put his friends first, himself second, and Derek absolute last. And the only reason that Derek was even on the list was because he was useful.

But still the thoughts came, slowly at first, creeping up on him, a dark smoke which hung in his mind. _Good enough to eat,_ it said, as Stiles stretched his arms up and a flash of pale belly showed. _Bet he tastes delicious,_ it murmured, as Stiles scratched his throat, stretched temptingly to the side. _You could devour him whole, and he’d beg you for more._

Derek started picking up things too. Sidelong glances Stiles would give him, things he would usually chalk up to distaste but instead now saw longing. Stiles’ breath quickening when Derek touched him, just brief contact, a hand on his shoulder while Derek glanced down at some research Stiles had found. A subtle heat framing his face when Derek got close, just a few degrees warmer, creating a pink barely noticeable by the human eye.

 _But you aren’t human, are you?_ the voice would purr. _You’re so much more than that. He wants you, he wants you to taste. Taste him, bite him, make him yours. Claim him for all to see._

The want for Stiles wasn’t something that the demon created. No, it had long been there, long been rolling in the bottom of his gut. Just another twisted desire he would never let himself have, this human boy, with untainted skin and curious eyes. He would never let himself take what he so badly wanted.

Until, one day, he did.

+++

Derek- _fuck_ , no, the demon, the demon waved the hamburger tantalizingly under Stiles nose, allowing it to graze his tightly clenched lips. “Come on Stiles,” it cooed, and fuck did that sound weird with Derek’s voice. “You have to keep your strength up. It has bacon, just how you like it. I even got Erica to get some curly fries to go with it.”

“You’re a fucking psycho if you think I’m going to let you hand feed me,” Stiles muttered in disgust, making sure to flinch back from the meal offered. The usually tantalizing smell of bacon and beef was nauseating as it hit his nose. They were in an abandoned warehouse somewhere, in one of the back rooms. Everything was coated in a layer of dust, and the smell of mildew drenched the air. The overhead light was glaring, and Stiles could already feel the puffy skin under his eyes. He hadn’t slept all night.

The demon sighed and dropped the food to his lap, leaning back in his chair, his eyebrows wrinkled in frustration. “It’s been nearly a day since you last ate. Do you really think you can keep your strength up like this? You’ll pass out by this rate.”

Stiles gritted his teeth and refused to answer. It was one thing to accept a water bottle shoved to his lips, humans didn’t last long without water, but he could be okay without food for awhile. And the idea of the demon using Derek’s hands to feed him, to do something so intimate with an abomination wearing Derek’s flesh, just made his skin crawl.

The demon sighed again and leaned forward, resting its forearms on its knees. It made the grey henley it was wearing grow taunt against Derek’s chest. “Look, you won’t be able to escape from me if you’re weak,” it tried to reason. “That alone should be having you scarf down anything I feel nice enough to give you.”

Stiles had a plan though. The demon wouldn’t kill him because of a werewolf’s instinct, right? Which somehow implied that Derek would naturally not let Stiles get hurt, at least to a degree where Stiles would be in true peril. So if he refused to eat, and there was a risk that he was going to die, maybe that would be the catalyst that would allow Derek to fight off the demon. All he had to do was hang on for awhile.

This was, of course, assuming that the demon wasn’t lying, both about the Stiles being Derek’s Mate thing and the werewolf instinct, but it was the best Stiles had so far. Scott had been the only one to resist Derek’s- the demon’s freaky alpha mind control power over the other Betas. Scott was Stiles only hope right now, along with Allison (if Scott could convince her to help) and Lydia (if she hadn’t already been incapacitated). And while he loved his best friend, and really did believe in him and all that, Stiles just did not like those odds.

And then the demon smiled again. “You think I’ve shown my hand, haven’t you? You have it all figured out in that hyped up little brain of yours.” It tapped the side of Stiles’ skull, and even the lightest of jabs flared out pain against the tender skin. Boyd had hit Stiles over the head and knocked him out before he woke up in chains.

“Nothing much you can do about it,” Stiles gritted out against the pain. “No matter what you think I’m planning.”

“Oh really? Is that a challenge?” The demon looked up, as if trying to figure out the answer to a test. “Let’s see. I could offer to torture you, that’s always fun. Not sure how much I’d be able to get away with, but hey, I can be creative.” Its eyes glinted with mirth as they flicked black. “You have no idea what pain I can cause you without even coming close to killing you, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged, despite the sweat now coating his palms. He didn’t trust himself to lie about how he wasn’t scared, how pain wasn’t enough to frighten him. Though maybe that would be enough, that would somehow kick the instinct and Derek could struggle free... He remembered the itch of the dried blood across his cheek. Then again, maybe not.

“I could find someone you love and bring them here,” the demon mused, it’s eyes returning to Derek’s hazel green. “That would take awhile though, and I really don’t want to have too many hitches in my plans.”

Stiles released a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. Scott could take care of himself, at least Stiles hoped. And Scott would know to look after Stiles’ dad. Allison and Lydia were capable of protecting themselves. Everyone would be okay, for now. Right...?

“No, I was thinking of something else,” the demon admitted, picking at Derek’s nail. “You see, there’s this fun little trick I don’t think you knew demon’s could do. Something that I think you’re really not going to enjoy. And now that I think about it... Why, it’s a little bit of my first two options, all rolled up in one.”

“What is?” Stiles ask, so not amused by the demon’s guessing games.

Another slow smirk. “Why don’t I just show you?”

+++

It was a breezy summer day when Derek took the boy. And took was the right word for it, with a hunger like starvation and a want like a need. And the voice was right, it was easy. All it took was a kiss. One simple kiss, dropped onto Stiles pink lips as he went on about something unimportant, some tv show or comic book or video game. Derek had to wonder when they had turned into this, something so comfortable that Stiles no longer scowled when Derek slid through his window, was no longer mulishly silent in Derek’s presence. It was almost like they were, in some twisted way, friends.

Until Derek decided that he needed more, so much more.

They were in Derek’s apartment went it happened, sitting on the couch. That’s right, Stiles was complaining that Derek hadn’t bought a TV yet. Threatened to get one from the pawn shop and set it up himself. Was talking about how great some show was, how Derek would enjoy it, something about the characters, something about the plot. But all Derek could see was those lips, all he could think of was how soft they would feel beneath his own, how he could mold them into something that was his, just his. So he did.

Stiles had started at first. His back had gone rigid, his breath had caught. Derek had cupped his face like he was a precious thing, because he was, Stiles was Derek’s precious thing, something to be cherished. Derek so desperately wanted to create this as a moment that would be cherished, had rubbed slow circles into Stiles’ jaw. And after but a moment or two, moments that seemed to draw on and on as Derek waited for a response, Stiles had surged forward and reciprocated eagerly.

 _Didn’t I tell you?_ the voice whispered. _He wants us to taste. He’s always wanted us._

Derek wanted to take his time. Derek wanted to take it all. He wanted to go slowly, to speak gently, to murmur everything he ever felt. He wanted to take quickly, to talk dirty, to mutter everything he ever wanted to do. He didn’t want to frighten Stiles, wanted to relax every tense muscle, every small tremor. He wanted Stiles to be scared, to bite down on taunt shoulders, to lick the fear soaked sweat from his skin.

 _Take it all,_ the voice told him. _Take everything._

+++

The demon’s head rolled back as if it had fallen asleep, and before Stiles could wonder what had happened, Derek lifted it back up, blinking in confusion. Stiles couldn’t quite say how he knew it was Derek and not the demon. Perhaps there was a certain openness about his expression, the look of horror as he took in Stiles’ bloodied form. His voice as he said, “Stiles?” the word crumbling as he realized what he had done.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, still unsure. The demon could be trying to manipulate him.

Derek shuddered. “I’m so sorry. About everything. I’m so sorry.”

Stiles sucked in a breath to hold back a sob. “No,” he said, trying to keep the weariness from his voice. “It’s not your fault. Nothing is your fault, okay? We’ll fix this. We’ll fix this.”

Before Derek could reply his arms began to move, slowly rising. He looked down at them in confusion, as if they were separate entities, and then looked up again. “I’m not doing this. The demon is controlling my body. I can’t stop it.”

Stiles gulped as Derek’s hands reached forward. “What’s he going to do?”

Both of their eyes widened as Derek’s hands wrapped around Stiles’ neck, and suddenly it clicked with a sickening crunch. This was how the demon was going to get Stiles to do what he wanted.

“No!” Derek shouted as he hands began to tighten, just fractions of inches. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything, please, no!”

“It’s trying to make me eat,” Stiles whispered, his chin lifting as he tried to make his throat narrower as Derek’s hands closed tighter. “It’s trying to manipulate me, Derek. He said I’m your Mate.”

Derek shook, as if he was trying desperately to pull against his own hands, to force them to wrench open instead of clamp shut. “I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you, but it wouldn’t let me.” His breath was ragged as his hands grew tighter. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault, this is all my fault.”

Stiles wanted to console him, wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that this was the demon not Derek, but the hands were already too tight. He could feel the bruising pressure, and his gasps grew louder as he struggled to breathe, as he struggled to get air through Derek’s grip. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as his mouth opened like a gaping hole, and his hands began to pull against the chains as instinct took over, vision growing white around the edges.

“Stiles, do it,” he heard Derek say as his ears began to ring. “Do whatever he says. He’ll hurt you. I can’t stop him. Please Stiles, for Go- for Chri- just do it!”

Stiles nodded frantically, unable to speak. Derek’s hands released him and he coughed dryly, tasting the copper of blood as air rushed back into his lungs, the breaths feeling like daggers against his now raw throat. He looked up, and through hazy vision saw two large orbs of black smirking down at his curled up form.

“Did you enjoy having him there?” the demon asked. “I thought it would be a comfort to you, to have his company as I slowly tortured you.”

Stiles knew that he could handle a lot of things. He may be a frail human, so breakable, so vulnerable, but he could take a lot if it meant protecting his friends. But to force Derek to watch as his own hands did it? The demon knew that Stiles wouldn’t think twice before putting himself through hell, but there was no way he was going to drag Derek down with him.

+++

The first time they had sex, Stiles had shook. Derek tried to be gentle, had laid him on a bed like a holy offering for Derek alone. His hands had moved to stroke Stiles’ sides, to sooth away the nervous ticks. But something had him grabbing the teen’s wrists instead, forcing them over his head and onto the pillows, pressing down with a bruising grip. A twisted part of Derek took pleasure in that, that he was going to leave bruises on that pale skin, a desire that was in him before the voice even whispered a word.

Stiles had whimpered. The voice had laughed, cold and callous. Derek had simply watched with bright red eyes.

He wanted to say something there, something comforting. About how much he loved this feeling, his skin against Stiles’, the velvety touch of it beneath his. He wanted to say how amazing Stiles was, how they could go as slow as he wanted. It was Stiles’ first time, he could set the pace. Derek could wait. _However long you need_ , he wanted to say. _We’ll do whatever you like._

Instead, he leaned down so he could whisper into Stiles’ ear, “You want this, don’t you? You’ve always wanted this. You want me to take you.” The voice whispered too, in the back of Derek’s mind. _Take_ , it said. _Take him_.

Stiles had turned his head away, his eyes wide and lips parted. But he had shivered so deliciously beneath Derek’s hands, his pulse had raised so invitingly, and Derek could smell the heady scent of arousal blossoming from him.

Derek moved a hand downwards to cup Stiles’ growing erection through his boxers and chuckled dryly. “You’re already hard for it. I haven’t even done anything and you’re already like this.”

“Shut up,” Stiles muttered as he squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re probably hard too.”

Derek was, but rather than give a confirmation he allowed his hips to rock forward, to rub their cocks together. What a sweet feeling it was to have Stiles whine needily beneath him. He captured the noises with his lips, allowing his tongue to swirl against Stiles’ slowly. He wanted to take him apart slowly. He wanted to take him all at once. He needed to take it now.

His claws sprang out of their own accord, and with two swipes their respective boxers were but shreds of cloth. He swallowed Stiles’ protests with another heady kiss. It was amazing Derek had lasted this long without bringing out his claws. He allowed them to trail against Stiles’ sides, watching as the blood rushed to the surface. Not enough to pierce skin, no, just that hint of pain, just that promise of it. Enough to make both Derek and Stiles to shiver with need.

“You’re not going to be able to finger me with claws out, you know,” Stiles snarked with breathy words, his honeyed eyes lidded. He glanced up and strained to remove his wrists from Derek’s hold.

Derek didn’t let go at first. He liked the idea of pinning Stiles’ down, watching him squirm, his lean muscles shifting as he lightly struggled to be released. But eventually, with much reluctance, Derek did relinquish his hold, and said, “That’s fine, because you’re going to do it yourself.”

+++

The food tasted like dust as the demon began to hand feed Stiles. It was almost twisted how much he had fantasized about this. Perhaps it would be after sex, when Stiles was too tired to move, yet hungry as anything. Derek would go grab something in the kitchen, something easy to eat like strawberries or chips, and then slowly hand feed Stiles’ as he lounged in the older man’s lap. But there was never time to do anything after sex, those many times he had slept with Derek. One of them was always leaving, always rushing for their clothes and then rushing out the door.

The demon was taking its time though. Allowing fingers to rub against Stiles’ lips as he took a bite of a fry. Rubbing Derek’s thumb against the edge of Stiles’ mouth, licking the ketchup off afterwards like it was a treat. Stiles’ had dreamed about licking salt off of Derek’s fingers, and now he flinched back every time he felt them brush against his mouth.

“So what’s your master plan?” Stiles asked as nonchalant as possible between mouthfuls of burger, the bacon now soggy.

The demon hesitated from picking up a fry, and glanced back at Stiles’ cautiously. “What does it matter to you? You’re obviously not going anywhere.”

Stiles shrugged. “Kind of getting bored sitting here, you know? And you obviously have nothing better to do then hand feed me like I’m a little kid.”

The demon smiled then, sharp like the edge of a bloody blade. “Compared to me, you are a child. I’ve been around for a long time, Stiles.” It picked up a fry. “Tell me, was that part of the appeal of Derek? That he was so much older? More experienced?”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Stiles accused before accepting the fry, chewing it quickly and swallowing it down. They were too cold to really enjoy anyway.

“You know, I’ve always wondered,” the demon continued, as if Stiles hadn’t spoke at all, “if you got off on it. The idea that what you were doing was illegal. Of course the things like legality are laughable to creatures such as myself.” It leaned forward that rested Derek’s hands on Stiles’ thighs, allowing them to rub up and down as it glanced up through long, black eyelashes. “And being the Sheriff's son, well, it almost seemed like you wanted to get caught.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Stiles bit back, his jaw clenching. “That’s disgusting.”

“Really? It never crossed your mind? Being caught?” The demon leaned forward even closer, his breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips. “Not even by your friends?”

Stiles jerked his head to the side, refusing to look into those soulless eyes. 

The demon just leaned even closer, allowing Derek’s lips to skim his ear as it continued. “Don’t lie to me, Stiles. I know when you lie. Even without this meatsuit I would know. You wanted them to know, didn’t you? You wanted everyone to know that you were Derek’s personal bitch. Oh, how miserable you looked when he asked you to keep it a secret. What had he said? Hmm?”

When Stiles refused to answer the demon allowed Derek’s claws to slowly sink out, to grip harder and harder into Stiles’ thighs until they slipped into the denim, until pinpricks of blood began to form. The demon caught Stiles’ earlobe in his mouth, gnawing it gently, and perhaps it was that, that odd mixture of pain and pleasure, that made Stiles panic.

“He didn’t want to complicate things,” Stiles gritted out.

The demon smiled. “Yes, that was it. He didn’t want to complicate things.” It trailed Derek’s nose up Stiles’ neck. “And you’re nothing if not a complication. You smell of arousal right now, do you know that? Underneath all that fear and and anxiety. You practically reek of it whenever Derek’s in the room. Not to mention how much you smell like _him_.” It began to trace Derek’s fingers along Stiles’ collarbone. “Did you really think no one had noticed? Did you really think no one knew?”

Stiles closed his eyes tightly, trying to not think how the touches felt so much like Derek, those fleeting moments when the man could be so kind. “They never asked.”

“Oh, Stiles,” the demon cooed. It cupped his face, forcing eye contact. “Of course they never asked. They knew just what you were to Derek. A good fuck, an easy lay.” It kissed Stiles’ unyielding lips gently, and smiled with pity that didn’t reach Derek’s eyes. “Who would ever want to ask you about just how desperate you were for Derek’s cock?”

+++

Derek hated himself for loving the sight of Stiles beneath him, squirming as the teen pushed fingers into himself, his face a flushed a marvelous shade of pink that reached down his chest, like a drop of blood in a bowl of cream. This wasn’t how first times were suppose to go. Derek was suppose to be the one to prepare Stiles for this, to allow gentle fingers and slow kisses to ease Stiles’ taunt body. But there was a darkness in Derek to be sated, a pervert who got off on watching, who loved the shine in Stiles’ eyes like they were about to overflow with tears. That smell of desperation, how his long fingers were going too fast and too deep in his embarrassment. Derek wanted to say words of comfort, of love, but instead he bent down to bite a perk nipple delicately between his teeth. Stiles moaned and arched his back, covering his eyes with his free arm.

 _Well, we can’t have that,_ said the voice. Derek pushed the arm up and into the pillow, forcing Stiles’ to face him with a stern hand, and his voice was dark as he muttered between fangs, “You look at me until I tell you, got it?”

Stiles nodded nervously, his fingers stilling in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

No. No, no, this wasn’t how it was suppose to be. Stiles looked scared. Scared of him, scared of Derek. Of all of the people in the world that Derek never wanted to frighten...

 _He loves it,_ the voice reasoned. _Look how hard his cock is. Smell that sweet perfume of arousal. He’s a glutton for pain, a masochist at heart. He wants you to take control. He loves to submit._

Derek pushed Stiles’ fingers away with impatient hands, lining his cock up without another word. He grabbed Stiles’ long legs and put them around his waist, and with one glance up he could tell that the teen was holding his breath. Not ready, Derek knew Stiles wasn’t ready. He should say something, something sweet. Something to reassure him. Ask him if it was alright, if he still wanted to go through this.

 _Take,_ the voice told him. _Take it all._

Derek grabbed Stiles’ neck, taking in those wide, doe eyes, those open, pink lips, each and every freckle and mole that Derek, in his more poetic moments, would compare to constellations. He took a look at the boy he had grown to love, who was so powerful and so broken, so lost but always, somehow, able to find Derek in the alpha’s darkest moments. Who right now was scared, so unprepared.

And he took it all without another word.

+++

“You know I had to convince him to fuck you, right?” the demon continued as it stretched Derek’s legs. The meal was eaten and it was now standing, pacing the room but still sounding content, obviously in no rush. It was odd seeing Derek’s body so relaxed. “He was very hesitant about it, but I talked him into it in the end. I knew he needed you.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all. His mouth felt like a layer of grease was covering it, and of all the things he could desperately want right now, a toothbrush seemed to be flying up the list. Or perhaps another swig of soda, but no way he was going to be asking the demon for any favors.

“No reply to that?” the demon asked, halting its footsteps. It picked a small blade up from a metal tray, instruments laid out like a twisted dentist’s office.

“Why did it matter to you what he needed?” Stiles decided, hoping to keep the demon talking. Maybe he could figure something out if it let something slip.

The demon shrugged as it ran a finger up and down the dull edge of the knife. “Fun, I suppose? How much he didn’t want, yet could only want. Do you ever have that feeling?”

“Not really.”

The demon looked to him with a raised brow, and shook Derek’s head slowly. “Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. What did I tell you about lying?”

“I’m not lying,” Stiles balked. “If you have werewolf powers you should know that.”

“Well, yes, you don’t think you’re lying. But that’s because you never really thought of it.” In a flash the demon was once more in front of him, grabbing hold of the back of his hair and forcing him to life his chin upwards. It smiled down with a twisted satisfaction. “Derek didn’t want you because he didn’t think he deserved you. He’s a monster, inside and out. Against nature and against humanity, which I suppose is where we connect. But you,” it said as it stroked the knife down Stiles’ cheek, the blade pressed so close he knew that one wrong move would cause it to bite into his skin. “You have a different motivation, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stiles whispered, watching the knife from the corner of his eye.

“You wanted Derek’s everything.” Its eyes were black again. “You wanted to devour him whole just as much as he wanted to take all of you. But he never let you. He never let you come close to anything but a fuck buddy. And all that time, as much as he used you, as much as he left you bruised and wanting, you never fought back. And do you know why that is?”

“No,” Stiles whispered, his voice hollow. He knew it was a lie. He couldn’t help but lie.

The demon leaned down, its breath hot against Stiles’ ear. “Because you knew, this entire time, that you were just some shitty kid who didn’t deserve him. Hell, you were surprised he even wanted to fuck you between your bony legs. You’re an annoyance, you’re a child, you’ll never be his equal. You can’t sit still for five minutes, can’t hold an adult conversation to save your life.” The blade ran against Stiles’ throat, right against his pulse. “You weren’t good enough for him, and you knew it.”

“Then why,” Stiles ground out, wincing as the movement caused the edge of the blade to nick his skin, feeling the warm gush of blood flow from the wound. “Then why does Derek think I’m his Mate?”

The demon bent Derek’s knees so that they were on eye level, with cold sympathy in its oil slick eyes. “Oh, my sweet Stiles,” it murmured, rubbing Derek’s thumb against the blood, licking it off as if it was as much of a treat as the ketchup. “Because I told him so. Because I needed him to have a Mate, so I created one. I made him fuck you. I made him love you.” It tilted Derek’s head with an understanding smile. “You’ve known that all along, haven’t you?”

Stiles felt cold as Derek’s hot tongue pressed against the cut, swiping away the blood. That couldn’t be true. It had been Derek who wanted him, not the demon. Right? Derek had- had never said anything like that, true. Had so rarely been gentle, but that was just the alpha’s way. He wasn’t made for sweet gestures and declarations of love. Right?

“It’s okay,” the demon muttered, and took Stiles’ face into Derek’s hands. “You’re my Mate, Stiles. I’ll always be here. In fact,” and its smile turned into something dangerous once more, its eyes glazed over with a barely constrained lust. “In fact, I always was.”

Stiles felt sick.

+++

Stiles’ willing body, tight and hot and perfect, felt amazing that first time. And the second, and the third, and all the times after. Derek felt molten every moment they were fitted together, like he was melted down and molded against Stiles’ body. He would press Stiles’ wrists down onto the bed, onto the wall, onto the floor, and simply take. Greedy thrusts, greedy licks, a greedy need that grew from the pit of his stomach, ravenous and willing, licking its way across his pulse like dark flames.

But that first time, when Stiles’ breath had been knocked out of him and his fists were clenched so tightly his nails created red crescents in his palm, that Derek had wanted nothing more than to... than to...

 _Take,_ the voice said, strict and demanding.

No. Give. Derek wanted to give himself to Stiles. Give everything, give laughter and sobs and pleasure and pain. To have their miseries cut in half by sharing those burdens, to double their joys by each others companies. Derek didn’t want to take, he wanted Stiles to give him those things, to give them in return. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and whisper something so sickeningly sweet in Stiles’ ear that he would feel embarrassed by it months afterwards.

Instead he leaned down and said, “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” And then he couldn’t stop.

Stiles simply moaned as Derek thrust faster, as he talked dirtier. “You like my dick inside you, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?” Everything was heat and sweat and filth. “Such a whore for my cock. God, if everyone could see you now, taking it like a pro. No one would believe you were a virgin.” Derek couldn’t control himself as his hips snapped faster, as the bed shuddered underneath them, as Stiles’ became liquid beneath him, biting his lip to keep from calling out. Derek caught his chin again. “Scream. Scream for me.”

And Stiles was such a good lover, such a good boy, that he did. Over and over again. Needy pleads for Derek to keep going, to not stop, to never stop. He called Derek’s name like a prayer, like a curse, like something so holy and so filthy it was sacrilegious so even say it aloud. His hands grabbed onto the sheets and his eyes were twisted closed.

“Look at me!” Derek screamed. “Look at me when I fuck you!”

Stiles eyes flew open, and there was no hiding the fear that shined within them.

Derek’s heart shuddered to a halt, but his hips kept on moving. He never wanted this. God, why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he take it back? But all he did was bite Stiles’ neck, too hard to be pleasurable for either of them, tasting the copper of blood as his fangs sank down. Oh god, he was a monster. He was a monster.

But Stiles simply screamed, “Fuck, Derek, I’m going to come!”

And that first time, as Derek lapped up blood like it was honey, he let Stiles’ come. The delicious clench of the younger man caused a friction that was too much, and Derek fucked into the now pliant body of his spent lover, searching for his own pleasure. He howled in triumph as he poured himself into Stiles’ body, their scents mingling into one.

+++

“You’re contradicting yourself,” Stiles managed to ground out after a few moments of shocked silence, turning his head to the side. “First you tell me that Derek doesn’t think he’s good enough to have me, then you say that he didn’t want me in the first place. You really should make up your mind about what shit you’re going to sprout to me.”

“Oh, Stiles, sometimes you can be so naive.” The demon didn’t force eye contact again, simply rubbed a finger along Stiles’ collarbone. “Derek needed you, but he didn’t want you. He could get anyone he wanted to fuck him, let’s be honest here. But what he needed wasn’t your body.” The demon leaned in close against, kissing the cut that was still lightly bleeding. “It was your worship.”

Stiles shuddered, but refused to respond.

“Yes, you’re pathetic worship of him was what he needed. A confidence boost, you might say.” The demon licked the blood off Derek’s lips. “He didn’t think anyone could want him. He was so pathetic, so sad. All he wanted was a set of adoring eyes, and you happened to be a nearby pair.”

“You’re lying,” Stiles whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

A smirk. “No, I’m not. Do you know what wolves want, Stiles? Submission. For someone to roll over and present their bellies, and you were more than willing, all those times. But when looking for a Mate? That’s an equal, that’s someone with equal footing. That’s someone who has a backbone.” The demon rubbed a hand up and down Stiles’ spine, a ghosting touch that caused shivers. “Something that I saw, time and time again, that when it comes down to it, you just don’t have.”

“You said I was his Mate.” Stiles wanted to snap forward, wanted to bite and punch and scream. “You told me you couldn’t hurt me because I was his Mate.”

“Oh, and isn’t that just the most pathetic thing of all?” The demon started kissing up Stiles’ neck, pausing briefly between kisses to continue talking. “He was so fucked up,” a light kiss against his jaw, “that he couldn’t even find,” a tiny peck against his neck, “a proper Mate. And had to settle for you instead.”

“Why did he even need one then?” Stiles asked as he suppressed shivers. “If I was such an imperfect Mate, why did he take me?”

“I can be very convincing when I want to be, Stiles. All I had to do was tell him you were the best he could ever hope to get, and then he conceded to it.” The demon began running Derek’s nose up and down Stiles’ neck. “You know that werewolves are more powerful with a pack, don’t you? Strength in numbers, but more than that. And an alpha? Well, not so surprising that he’s more powerful with a Mate, no matter who that Mate is.”

“I’m not a werewolf,” Stiles argued, his body rigid. “How could that-”

“It’s not what you are, or who you are, it’s the connection I forced Derek to forge. I needed him in his prime, and Mateless is not an alpha’s prime.” It lapped at the dried blood, Derek’s tongue stinging the cut. “So I got him to use you. Again,” it whispered filthily, Derek’s hands moving down Stiles’ back, “and again,” it rested them against Stiles’ ass, “and again.” It squeezed tightly. “You’re nothing more than a power pack, an upgrade so that I get all the bells and whistles out of my meatsuit. Isn’t it obvious, Stiles? Didn’t you know that all along?”

+++

Derek knew that Stiles didn’t love him. Not really, not truly. It was a stupid teenage crush, more lust than anything else. Derek had been there, with Kate. If he let Stiles in, if he showed Stiles all of him, the teen would be repulsed. Would never let Derek touch him, would never speak to him again. But Derek oh so desperately wanted to. So instead he took what he wanted, every physical desire multiplied by every emotional one cut off. He wanted Stiles beneath him, so he crushed him into the bed. He wanted Stiles to fantasize about him, so he whispered dirty things. He wanted Stiles to smell of them, so he soaked him with his scent. The last, however, presented a problem.

“Don’t tell anyone about us,” Derek had said. “It’ll complicate things.”

Stiles smile had faltered just an inch before rearing back up, bright and fake as a fluorescent light. “Okay.”

What Derek didn’t say was why. That Stiles telling everyone would bring up questions that would bring reality crashing down around them. Derek didn’t have it in him to fake a relationship, so he lied to everyone, all his betas, even Scott. Stiles and him weren’t anything serious, he explained to them, but Stiles was too embarrassed to say anything. Don’t bring it up. Just let it happen, let Stiles be the one to break it off when he wanted to.

Scott had been a problem. He had argued that Derek was using Stiles, that it was sick and unfair. Derek didn’t deny it. He had simply told Scott that this was what Stiles wanted. That it wasn’t fair that just because Scott happened to be a werewolf, could smell Derek coated on Stiles’ skin, that he couldn’t just take away Stiles’ right to tell the group. Scott should wait until Stiles was ready to bring it up. And, as per Derek’s request, Stiles never would.

It was far more manipulative than Derek thought was really within him to be. _It makes sense this way,_ the voice told him. _They’ll scare him away if he talks about it. They’ll make him run from you. Allow him to stay in ignorance. Keep him hidden in plain sight. Better to have his body than nothing at all._

And have Stiles’ body Derek did, again and again, each time the righteous fury growing within him. Why didn’t Stiles love him? Why didn’t Stiles want him, all of him? Why did he just want sex, why didn’t he want Derek? And then is started leaking out, like pus from an infected wound, into his actions.

“Derek, Derek,” Stiles pleaded, his shirt rucked up to his armpits, his jeans pushed down mid-thigh. He was seated on Derek’s lap facing away from the man, his back arched, his bare ass pressed against Derek’s erection. “Please, please let me come.”

Derek didn’t loosen his hold around Stiles’ cock. “Are you going to be a good boy?” He pressed his own hot need against the teen’s ass. “I thought you were going to make me come?”

“I’m trying,” Stiles choked out, tears at the creases of his eyes. “I’ve been trying, but you keep touching me.”

Derek leaned forward and licked a teardrop as it fell. Stiles didn’t often cry, only when Derek was being especially cruel. The salt hit his tongue, making him want to moan in pleasure and choke on bile. “That’s no excuse. If you were a better bitch for me you’d have been able to make me come by now. Don’t you want to be my bitch?”

Stiles was quiet, his pants echoing in the quiet bedroom. The Sheriff would be home soon, but for now they were alone. His arms trembled as Derek held them behind his back.

“Do you?” Derek seethed, letting go of Stiles’ cock to grab his neck, thrusting his hips harder.

“Yes!” Stiles shouted. “Yes, I want to be your bitch! But please Derek, please let me come!” He didn’t need Derek’s hand to hold himself back. They had played this game many times, and Stiles knew the consequences of coming without Derek’s permission. He never got a say, never got a safeword. He bended to Derek’s will or faced punishment.

“Then move your ass,” Derek reasoned, loosening his hold and placing his hands on Stiles’ sides, rubbing softly up and down. “Or better yet... turn around.”

Yes, he wanted that. He wanted Stiles to face him and lower his hips gingerly, to rub his over sensitive cock against Derek’s in a bid to make the alpha come. Stiles wouldn’t be able to do it, though. He would cry and grit his teeth to hold back sobs, would try to kiss and suck against Derek’s neck with a feverish desperation in an attempt to make the older man come first. Would whine into Derek’s ear to please come, that Stiles wanted him to come, that Stiles would lick it up like a good boy after, would clean him up so good and get on his knees and suck on Derek like he knew the alpha loved afterwards. 

And Derek, with such cruel intent, would stick a finger up Stiles’ ass, would press it quickly against that one spot that he knew would set Stiles’ off like a pistol shot. And he knew how unfair it was, to chide the teen after, to punish him even as Stiles begged for forgiveness, saying, “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.”

+++

The demon was slicing off Stiles’ clothes. The blade was so small that it was slow going, but it didn’t seem to mind. It would expose a tiny sliver of flesh and then lick the skin slowly. Along Stiles’ collarbone, along his stomach, down his side. The shirt was quickly becoming a tattered piece of fabric rather than any viable form of clothing, like some cheesy prop from a horror movie set, showing the werewolf as he became a man, his clothes torn but just there enough to keep the actor decent.

Stiles didn’t know how far the demon would take this, would take him. He shivered at the thought. Did demons feel sexual desires? But no, it wouldn’t even need to have that. Stiles’ knew that the demon apparently got off on pain and misery, and if it did... that... well, pain and misery would be all that resulted. He couldn’t stop shivering, closed his eyes, the soft sounds of fabric ripping thudding into his ears.

It was a relief of a lifetime when Derek’s phone started to go off.

The demon paused in its administrations. It grabbed the phone off the table, seated next to various blades and instruments, some rusty, some bloody, some as clean and pristine as if they had just been purchased. It glanced down at the screen with a small frown before answering with a curt, “You’re not due to call me for another couple of hours, Erica. This had best not be bad news.” It twirled the small blade in Derek’s hands.

Stiles strained to listen to the conversation going on behind the phone, but the demon had walked away as soon as it had answered. All he could observe was its increasing frown as it listened, forcing Derek’s eyebrows to press together in annoyance.

“How did she find out?” it asked, voice dangerously low. It’s eyes widened in surprise as the answer came. “Peter? He shouldn’t even be in town- I see. Well, that is certainly an unexpected development.” A few more moments as it tapped the blade against the flat of Derek’s palm. “No, you did the right thing, in that situation. Hold them there until I arrive.” It ended the call with a calm hand.

“Trouble in paradise?” Stiles asked with a practiced grin. For once in his life he was glad that Peter had turned up. Maybe he could somehow help Scott figure out how to cast the demon back to the pits of hell. Or something. Whatever increased their odds.

“Just a small blip including one Lydia Martin.” The demon turned the corner of Derek’s lips when Stiles’ flinched at that, walking up close enough that it placed a soothing hand on Stiles’ cheek, the side that wasn’t cut. “Don’t worry on my behalf, she’s already been contained.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Stiles voice was as cold as his glare.

“Nothing so drab as murder, I assure you. No, I need Miss Martin for my plans more than you may think. You don’t give the girl enough credit, for all that you were in love with her so many years.” The demon shook Derek’s head with a belittling smile and took a small key out of his pocket. “And if that didn’t burn Derek up, to think upon how quick your obsession with her ended after all those years.”

“I don’t know why that would make him upset,” Stiles asked as the demon moved to unlock his chains. He knew better than to make a run for it, rubbed his bruised wrists to get the blood to circulate in them again, wincing at the sections of skin where the flesh had rubbed off.

“Well of course you don’t, until you’re the one on the other side of such an easily dwindling infatuation.” The demon grabbed a wrist and yanked Stiles bodily forward, smirking as Stiles’ swerved to avoid becoming flush with Derek’s body. “But enough of that. We have a meeting to attend, and it’s not that I don’t trust you alone but... well, I don’t trust you alone.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever. At least let me piss first.” He wasn’t about to contribute to this suave, James Bond villain thing the demon seemed to have an affinity for.

“Fine. But just know, if you do attempt to run, or to hinder my plans in any way, well...” Another slow smile. “I don’t have to kill Lydia in order to make you regret that decision.”

Stiles tried to calm his racing heartbeat at the thought, and bit down his threats. They would do him no good now. “Whatever. Mind telling me these plans, just so I know not how to hinder them?”

“Oh, I don’t want to make it too easy for you. Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

It was a chilly night in the California autumn when Derek realized he had taken Stiles as his Mate.

They were in Derek’s bed, and Stiles was on his hands and knees, for once not gagged or bound or even held down besides Derek’s tight grip on slender, pale hips. Oh, those sweet hips, Derek wanted to worship them for days. Wanted to write lavender lyrics about the way they moved, the way they felt, how soft, how lean, how everything. He never did, though. He never could. Something held him back, that dark voice in the back of his mind.

Each thrust was hellish ecstasy, each cry from Stiles a heavenly choir, and Derek let his eyes close with just how sweet a sin he was committing. The voice said, _Devour him_ , and he feasted with gluttony. The voice said, _Punish him_ , and he disciplined with anger. The voice said, _Take him, take everything_ , and he did so with an all consuming envy, a leviathan that swam beneath his blood, ready to devour.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned, “It’s too much, it’s too much.”

Derek trembled. It would never be enough. He needed to swallow Stiles’ whole. He needed to bond the boy to him, to create a connection, a rope that would tie them together. Always, he wanted Stiles always. The thought of Stiles leaving was heart crushing, the thought of him no longer wanting Derek, no longer wanting the shallow excuse of a relationship they had-

 _Then take him!_ the voice roared.

“Derek,” Stiles cried, “what’s happening?”

“It’s my knot,” Derek said breathlessly. He stared down at it in wonder where it was lodged deep within Stiles. No, this shouldn’t be possible. Werewolves didn’t knot with anyone but their Mates. And Stiles wasn’t... Stiles had never said he wanted to be-

 _Well, you don’t need his consent for that,_ the voice whispered. _And you don’t need him to know now. Lie to him._

And, for the first time, Derek found himself arguing back. He couldn’t lie, he couldn’t keep this from Stiles. Derek had to explain what was happening, had to explain what it meant. How important this bond was. How it meant that Derek not just loved him, not just wanted him, but that he saw Stiles as his equal, as a partner. Wanted that to last forever, wanted to be together always.

 _Lie!_ the voice demanded. _He’ll hate you, he’ll run. A one sided connection is better than losing him all together!_

So Derek had leaned down and whispered, “That’s my knot. And you’re taking it like such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“It hurts,” Stiles whimpered. “It’s weird. Why-”

Derek cut him off by turning them sidewise, spooning up close to Stiles to help alleviate some of the pain. He kissed Sitles’ pale neck. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s just a part of who I am. It’ll go away soon. And you’re doing so well, you’re taking it so wonderfully. It feels so good inside you.”

All of that was true, but more than that, he wanted to say what this meant, what this truly meant. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose what they had. And there was no going back now. He felt sick with it.

“It’ll go down soon, right?” Stiles winced. “I don’t mean to be insensitive dude, but maybe a little forewarning next time? I’m all about new experiences, and I’m sure we can have fun with it, but some mental and physical prep would not hurt.”

Derek knew that it would happen again. There was no going back, once his wolf had chosen a Mate. “Okay,” he promised, stroking Stiles’ sides, kissing the side of his neck. “I promise I’ll tell you next time.”

Derek hated this. All he wanted was to please Stiles, to tell him how he felt. But every declaration of love, every time Derek so desperately wanted to tell Stiles to stay, to be with him, to be his, to take Derek as his own- every time the voice would cut him off with oh so cutting words. 

_You love him? Don’t be foolish. He’ll never love you. He can’t look you in the eye after you’re done. Think of how quickly he leaves when you’re finished, how he doesn’t even glance back. You’re a murderer, a sinner, an abomination. The boy only knows lust for you, not love. He wants your body, not your heart. Who could ever love a monster such as you?_

Demons do not lie. They much prefer the twisted truth.

+++

The abandoned train warehouse was just as dingy and dark as Stiles remembered. The demon had tied his hands behind his back with leather cuffs, and it was with only a little embarrassment that Stiles remembered that he had been the one to buy them online, per Derek’s request. How much of their sex life had been Derek and how much the demon? Stiles didn’t want to hear the answer.

Isaac was leaning against the train with an uncaring grace, and Erica peered out of the train car door, her arms tightly crossed and her glare apparent. She didn’t give sass though, just said, “She’s in here, Boyd’s watching her,” with a clenched jaw.

Stiles didn’t know how alpha mind control worked, but he was fairly certain the betas weren’t enjoying it. They had looked grim when they kidnapped him, and Isaac had even whispered an apology when he had kicked Stiles’ stomach. How long was the demon’s control going to last? Stiles’ wasn’t betting it would let up anytime soon, though. That seemed far too convenient.

The demon walked up to the train with an easy gait and an annoyed huffed, dragging Stiles’ behind him with a tight hold of his arm. “Betas. I have to do everything around here, don’t-”

Stiles’ arm nearly wrenched out of his socket as Isaac pulled him back, and Erica spun out of the train car door as she kicked the demon, forcing it forward. The fluorescent train lights flickered off, and suddenly the glowing outline of luminous paint showed on the train car ceiling, a pentagram with strange symbols.

The demon howled with rage, its eyes flashing red, and it quickly shifted to werewolf form, its face contouring and its claws growing. “How dare you!” it shouted, and the betas flinched back.

Boyd and Lydia came up from inside the train car, Stiles’ watching them walk down the aisle through the gritty glass. Lydia had a large, ancient book in front of her, and was chanting something quickly, something Latin. Her eyes were hard, even as her hands were shaking. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus.”

“You think that’ll work?” the demon sneered, even as it flinched back. It raised a hand, sending Boyd flying backwards, but Lydia... Lydia didn’t even flinch.

“She’s immune,” Stiles whispered. Lydia Martin, genius extraordinaire, was immune not only to the bite, but also to the demon’s power. No wonder it had such plans for her.

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii...” she continued, her voice rising. Erica ran back to another train door, and Stiles’ could see through her windows as she bent over Boyd’s huddled form. “Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”

And then the demon, its eyes painted black, its face panicked and enraged, glanced over to Stiles. “She may be immune,” it roared, “but you’re not!”

Stiles didn’t even have time to comprehend the sentence before he felt his chest tighten. His heart, it was like someone was gripping his heart, crushing it. He crumpled to the floor and began to hack up blood. He couldn’t breath.

“Lydia, stop!” Isaac shouted, crouching down to grab Stiles’ shoulders. “He’s killing Stiles!”

She didn’t hear. “Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te!”

“No,” Stiles grounded out, using the last of his strength to cover Isaac’s mouth. “I’m Derek’s... Mate,” he spat, along with fresh blood. “Can’t... kill...” Me, he wanted to finish, but he could already feeling himself passing out, could feel his heart stutter to a stop.

And then he heard it, a howl so feral, so twisted and pained, that there was no way a demon could produce such a haunting sound. It was Derek. Derek had taken control of his body. It was the most beautiful sound Stiles had ever heard.

“Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.” Lydia paused, looking as vicious as the goddess of war, as triumphant as a Valkyrie flying into the heart of battle, like an archangel about to smite the impure. “Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei-”

An unholy scream forced its way out of Derek’s lungs, along with a black, bilious cloud of smoke which poured from his mouth. The dark smoke rushed out of the train car, past Stiles huddled body, racing off into the darkness. It smelled of sulphur and death.

Lydia panted as she swayed on her feet, grabbing a seat back to steady herself. Erica slowly raised Boyd up, allowing him to lean on her shoulder. Isaac was frozen, staring at Derek, who had staggered to the floor the moment the demon had left him. Stiles was still alive, and though pain blossomed in his chest every time he took a breath, he said, “Derek?”

The last sight he saw before passing out was Derek’s hazel green eyes.

+++

Scott and Stiles were arguing. Derek could hear them through the wall. Not loud enough to alert the other hospital patrons, but not soft enough to avoid werewolf eavesdropping.

“You’re damn right I told him to stay outside in the hall, he’s the one that got you landed into the hospital in the first place,” Scott gritted out, the sounds of his heavy footsteps alerting Derek that the teen was probably pacing.

“Really? Because I think he’s the reason I’m in the hospital, and not the mortuary,” Stiles snarked back, sheets rustling above impatient legs.

Derek’s chest clenched. He hated how flippant Stiles could be about his own death, when the mere thought made Derek stop breathing.

“Besides,” Stiles continued relentlessly, “I don’t remember you being in that train when the shit hit the fan.”

“I told you, me and Allison were on the way to the warehouse to rescue you. We didn’t think the demon was going to bring you with him!”

Derek had been well aware of that. Isaac had given him all the details of their plan after he had been nearly soaked in holy water. It appeared that Scott had gotten the book from Deaton, and somehow got Peter’s contact information for how to break the alpha hold the demon had the beta’s under. Mountain ash really did have a lot of uses, handled in the right way.

“Oh, I know,” Stiles retorted. “I know that you left Lydia to exorcise a freaking demon by herself, on some half baked idea of freaking _Peter Hale’s_ that she _might_ be immune to the demon’s powers-”

“I didn’t like it as much as you did, but I didn’t know if you were alive or dead- and god dammit Stiles, she wasn’t alone!”

“Recently brainwashed betas do not count in this equation, thank you very much Scott!” 

There was a long pause as they both struggled to catch their breaths and calm themselves, their heartbeats slowing from a quick tattoo to a steady beat. 

“Okay, look, I know you did your best,” Stiles reasoned, sounding far calmer. “Now I want you to leave, and by leave I mean the building, or at least the floor, while I talk to my not-boyfriend about all the shit that just happened, okay?”

“I still don’t-”

“Derek,” Stiles spoke over Scott’s words, “I know you’re listening. I want you to walk in here right now, and if Scott doesn’t leave, I want you to bodily throw him out the window. You hear me? You so owe me at least that.”

Derek didn’t even have time to move before Scott was throwing open the door and stalking past him with an uneasy glare, hands in his pockets and face cloudy. 

Stiles was sitting up in bed with a strained smile. “I thought he’d never leave, jeeze. Nearly die and everyone is suddenly telling you how to live your life.”

Derek walked in the room and carefully closed the door behind him. “The doctors say you’re going to be just fine, right?” he asked gruffly, glancing down at the floor and then back up.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. They’re just keeping me here for observation. And that’s mostly because I’m the Sheriff's son, and they don’t want to answer to law enforcement if any other symptoms pop up.” He bit his lip and patted the bed beside him. “Come on, take a seat. I want to talk.”

Derek remained standing where he was, clenching his fists. He didn’t know what to say. He remembered things the demon had said, but the memories were hazy, more like a dream. And even the pieces he remembered clearly... where would he even start?

Stiles didn’t let the silent last long. “So I heard we’re Mates?”

Derek couldn’t stop himself from visibly wincing. “I was going to tell you that when it happened...”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not 100% I know what that means, but I just... I didn’t even think we were going out, you know? So I’m just not sure... what we are. If we’re anything.”

“Do you want to be?” Derek asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Something, I mean.”

Stiles answered that with a glare. “No shit I want to be! I mean, sure, there were some fucked up things about our relationship. I’m not sure how much of that was the demon, and how much was you, and to be honest I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. That, you know, just because it sucked at parts didn’t mean it wasn’t awesome at other parts, and... and I guess I want to try to see if those awesome parts were you.”

Derek quirked a smile and went to sit on the bed. He took Stiles hand and squeezed it gently, looking into bright, amber eyes. “I certainly don’t want to do anything that you’re father would arrest me for.”

Stiles groaned. “Aw, come on! I know you were chaotic evil before, but don’t go to lawful good on me!”

“No, hear me out,” Derek murmured, and he brought Stiles’ hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, effectively silencing the teen. “I think I love you.” He ignored the way that Stiles jaw went slack, and went on, “And I wanted to tell you that for so long, and the demon wouldn’t let me. I wish I could be a bit less blunt about it, but that’s really just not my way.”

“Yeah, you’re more adapt at one liners than sonnets,” Stiles muttered, and now he was the one glancing down, turning a delicious shade of pink.

Derek rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. “I want to try a relationship. A normal, mundane, human relationship. And like a normal human, I want to wait until you’re eighteen, which is only a couple of months, and then I want to give you the best birthday of your life.” He emphasized the statement by nipping Stiles’ fingertips, allowing his eyes to flash red, just briefly, which seemed to be a surefire way of making Stiles’ heart skip a beat. “I want to go on dates, and shop at the grocery store, and tell you all the things you do that make my life bearable, and all those things you do that I hate but can’t help but love you more for.”

Stiles cleared his throat before quickly saying, “But what about the Mate thing?” He winced afterwards, like he hadn’t meant to bring it up again.

“It’s a bond that’s easily broken,” Derek lied smoothly. It was moments like these that he was glad his boyfriend was human. “If you want I can even stop it now, until you’re-”

Stiles clapped a hand over Derek’s lips and gave him a serious look, his eyebrows saying that it was the end of that line of conversation, making Derek giddy with relief. Stiles wanted to try this thing with him, was willing to put everything he had into the relationship. Derek knew that was who Stiles was all along, how could he let the demon tell him otherwise?

Stiles let go of Derek’s mouth to ask, “So what do you want to do, if sexy times are out?”

Derek hesitated before answering, “I was thinking... of buying a TV.”

That perked Stiles right up. “Yeah?” he asked, trying to play cool but obviously happy over the prospect, his foot twitching in excitement like a puppy’s eager tail.

Derek shrugged, trying to play it just as cool. “And letting you force me to watch that show you always say I will like.”

Stiles lips stretched wide as he raised a single brow. “Doesn’t that sound a bit boring, for us?”

Derek leaned forward and cupped Stiles’ neck before kissing him, soft and sweet and full of promise. He leaned back slightly to murmur, “I’m never bored when I’m with you.”

“Ugh,” Stiles scoffed, his nose wrinkling. “Don’t tell me you’re actually a romantic? Who’d have thought, Derek Hale, tough guy extraord-”

Derek could think of nothing more he desired than to kiss away Stiles’ snark. In fact, he felt like he could do it for hours, for days, for years. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that Stiles was more than willing to let him.

**Author's Note:**

> The dub-con is basically because even though Stiles is willing to have sex, Derek is actually being manipulated by the demon to have sex with Stiles. While I never write that the demon is in control while having sex with Stiles, it is stated that while Derek desires to have sex with Stiles, it is the demon who pushes him to do it, not conscious choice. There is also a lot of rough and manipulative sex that the demon pushes Derek to have with Stiles, not by his own choice.
> 
> The non-con elements are some moments with the demon while he has Stiles captured, which include some forced light touching, licking, and kissing while Stiles is chained up. Nothing too sexual though, but still definitely non-con.
> 
> +++
> 
> Come check out my [Tumblr](http://ember-to-ash.tumblr.com/), which is basically entirely dedicated to my fics, snippets, questions, prompts, and Teen Wolf/Sterek stuff!


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